Cold discrepancy
by Kasimere
Summary: Cain didn't think to highly of Glitch in the beginning, but then again- he didn't feel much towards anything. TIN MAN fanfiction, could be seen as GlitchxCain OR just a Bro-fic. Either's possible. Uh, some nightmares, glitching and lots and lots of Cain angst. ENJOY!


**Cold discrepancy**

_*Whispers into your ear whilst on a plush fur rug* I've never written Tin man fanfiction before, but I've obsessed over this shit since 2007. So, fuck it. Let's see how this goes._

**Discrepancy: ****an illogical or surprising lack of compatibility or similarity between two or more facts.**

* * *

Hollow crunching echoed throughout the forests colourful pallet of sounds. Chirping from the birds that remained hidden in trees, like invisible thoughts pecking at the edges of pleasant memories that refused to surface. The atmospheric breeze added to the orchestra, dancing between the already intertwined upper branches of the greenery. This entire visage of natural music would have made the tin man rather comfortable. If it wasn't being disrupted by the constant chattering from the headcase whom moved behind him with staggering, dizzy steps. The sound of _its_ constant glitching felt to Cain about the same as nails scraping along a chalk board. Mere hours before this uncomfortable situation, Wyatt was in _Hell. _A reoccurring nightmare that had became his looping unlife for years. Cold metal bit the edges of his skin, it's venomous cold dripping into his blood stream only to slither its way into his core, his soul, and like deadly venom; slowly began to kill him. sufficient to say it had done its agonising job years ago and now the thing that walked within the forest was a shell whose every step was not fueled by regular function, but by vengeance. Like a machine, heartless and rudimentary. Hell had broken the spirit of a good man, not as if Cain would see it so, and even when he was ripped from the clutches of his own personal Abaddon; his outlook was left baron. Baron enough to not be as grateful as one would expect in regards to freedom, for he did not take well to his new situation.

He cast his thoughts to the group individually, DG, okay- initially he had to admit he read the girl wrong. For all her physical daintiness, the girl had a spine, a mind and ruthlessly determined nature. Cain figured if he could feel anything anymore, respect would be it and all of it was presumably pivoted towards the bizzare girl that strode near to his left side.

Raw? Well- could anyone have a real opinion of the silent figure that cautiously kept close to the girl. Give or take a few noticeable traits. He was coward, for sure- but wasn't Cain himself? No, there was no time for personal musings. The beast was kind hearted at least, not trustworthy, nothing was, but Cain owed the beast at least some ounce of credibility, for if he didn't come to the dead man's aid- he'd be walking on a limp.

And then there was the headcase. Now, Cain did not share any positive thoughts towards even trampling through a baron husk of a once beautiful land with a cowardly lion and a foreigner. But he could've certainly tolerated that lesser situation more. But the addition of the headcase sent the fight between anger and apathy into a frenzy. _Its_ forever looping monologues, the constant pitch changing during the agonising flourishing-and completely pointless- words. Flailing limbs and crashing falls that were only met with childish laughter and outlandish waving of hands; _it _never ceased. If Cain hadn't passed away years ago, he'd feel maybe a shred of sympathy of the convict- no, not convict. As much as Cain probably miscast his own judgement towards the idea. He found the face he decidedly wanted to punch, somewhat familiar- the face of someone royal and not at all associated with the messy waste of breath behind him. _Its _disheveled clothes, harboring a sense of regalia to them... and it'd be a stretch to say they were stolen. But maybe _it_ was something important, after all, statues of superiority could still be murderers. Mixed in all the hate, the solemn soul had to muse towards how bizzare the liability was. Headcases weren't usually known for their capabilities in speech, or somewhat coherent movement- none gave themselves identities or even remembered vague scraps of their lives before hand. Now that, that was a feature that intrigued the tin man.

This momentary thought of some complexity dwindled into nothing when he heard a crash from somewhere outside his vision- accompanied with a yelp. _It'd_ fallen again.

**!-Hey, has anyone noticed this is a story divider?-!**

The air of dusk had began to kick start the rocketing fall in temperature. And now darkness blanketed the group of misfits all of which could see the breath leave their bodies as dancing steam. The earlier hours of blackness within the forest were spent lighting a fire, talking lowly over plans- and all these hours heavily involved Cain keeping his hands towards the fire and not around the headcases neck. But now, the beast, the girl and the headcase slept awkwardly on the forest floor.

Raw, curled in the corner, shaking even in his sleep. DG slept on top of Cain's coat-he gave it to her through necessity, she needed warmth and no one needed to handle a frozen child by day break-. The tattered coat of the headcase covered her however. Cain recalled the way _it _had stumbled over to her, with a grin; sliding the coat from _its_ shoulder the zipperhead draped it over her with some bizzare carefulness one would dish to a child. Before nodding at her and skipping to _its_ own sleeping spot near the dying fire. The headcase slept now, sprawled out despite the cold with an a shocking absence of sound. It was the first peace Cain had experience in over a decade.

The hours slipped forward and this faux happiness was short lived as the blonde snapped his irritated eyes open. A frown immediately burst across his aged face. The headcase was mumbling, fidgeting with small bouts of twitches. Even in the things sleep it refused to shut up. Cain growled under his breath as he moved closer to the sleeping figure, determined this time to silence the thing. Leaving his gun in place, he was sure to give it a kick and some harsh words if it awoke. Standing, he now loomed over the figure, gritting his teeth Cain tried to believe he was indeed going to complete his negligent thoughts before something halted his internal build up. The words that escape the mumbles of the headcases mouth. "No... please.. don't do it.. it won't... it won't no. No... please.. don't do it.. it won't... it won't no-" The tin man leaned down towards the headcase, the moonlight glinting off the metal that jaggedly ripped a partition through its hair.

Its face was contorted with worry, fear- panic. Emotions Cain would still recognised but wagered he'd never feel again. The dead felt nothing but anger and sadness. Sadness, indeed was the only thing that splayed across the twitching face of the zipperhead that Wyatt could remotely sympathise with. If he could still sympathise. The excuse Cain gave his being was that the infernal chattering of the zipperhead would wake the girl if he didn't stop it. Tentatively he reached a hand towards its shoulder, shaking it gently. It didn't take long for his hand to retract with a fast jolt as the brown eyes of the headcase burst open. A yelp that caught momentarily in its throat escape as a desperate whine, jumping up faster than Cain could register it recoiled from him and backed away in a crawling motion; eyes unseeing and clouded with an image that wasn't there. The headcase let it's head violently shake from side to side as it began to stutter and stammer, words escaping from every quickened breath. "No, please, please! No- I- please- I don't want, No... _nonononononono."_ Without thinking, Cain rushed forward and down onto his knees to level himself slightly above the clearly panicked headcase. Firmly grabbing its- his- shoulders Cain looked into his eyes.

His eyes, held fear- so clouded, so confused and hurt. If Cain had a heart it would certainly break. Something screamed behind the mental faults, something buried underneath a glass prison. Something intricate, smart- suffering. Tears slowly fell from these swirling windows of expansive views, before closing once again as the headcase began to fight from Cain's grasp to no avail.

"Headcase, listen- nothing's wrong! Hey! Headca-" The headcase continued to panic with small words escaping his gasps. "No.. let me go..!"Cain felt his grip tighten on the figure, letting out a sigh, he tried once more.

"Glitch!" Glitch's eyes opened immediately at the mention of his 'name'. He stopped fighting and stayed completely still for a moment. Like a machine warming up, eventually a slight frown of confusion creased his face- materializing as some form of a pout. He looked up at Cain and cocked his head. Innocently staring towards the blonde.

"Cain..? Uh- am I missing something here...?" Cain huffed, releasing the headcase. Standing at his full height he lumbered back to his original place, gruffly rumbling in a low tone. "You were having a nightmare, I had to do something." Glitch went to speak, then stopped- and repeated this action several times before finally retorting.

"A nightmare? Oh, well, don't think I've had one of those before- haha- must be all this- uh." He looked around, searching for an excuse. Cain figured even Glitch knew there was probably no truth behind his own statement. He cut off the headcase before he continued to ramble.

"It's fine, Glitch. It's fine." Wyatt was sure that the zipperhead kept his brown gaze upon him as he wriggled closer to the dying fire- bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head upon them. Surprisingly, Cain didn't get a response. Eying the headcase, he found him to be gazing into the fire's embers. The darker glaze over his eyes suggested a change in his very character.

"It's strange. To remember nothing of yourself, what is there to fear when you've forgotten everything?" Glitch's voice was very soft, serious- different. "And still I find my self terrified by ghosts I can't even recall. Memories of people that may still be alive, maybe I'm the one who's dead." Cain shifted awkwardly and grumbled, turning his gaze from the hollowed man who gazed into the dying warmth.

"You're not dead."

"And neither are you, Mr. Cain." Glitch breathed, closing his eyes. Cain stared towards him- for the longest time until Glitch's breathing deepened and his shoulders slouched. Whatever just happened, stirred something in the tin man.

It was fact, that he had died years ago. But it was also true that he was living- sat in the darkness with a man of the same problems.

Nothing in this new, terrible world made any sense. But Cain knew from that moment on that he'd find it impossible to remain clutching his colder opinions of _people._

* * *

*Claps* Improvised shitey fanfiction is my game.

Hahahaha, could've been worse.


End file.
